Dark Encounters
by CrazywithaComputer
Summary: Oliver's trip to Bludhaven does not go as smoothly as we have been led to believe... Set during 'The Undertaking' T because I'm paranoid


**CWC: Hello again! Just a quick one-shot while I work on the next chapter of I had to ask. May expand, may not, depends on reviews. Enjoy!**

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Dark eyes narrow behind a black domino mask as he approaches the old building. The midnight wind tosses his shoulder length black hair as the young man gets his first glimpse of the inside of the structure and gives a small gasp of surprise. The hall leading into the complex is littered with bodies in various states of unconsciousness, all of them looking like they have gotten on the wrong end of a bus. His black body suit blending in with the shadows provided by the dim lighting, the man slips unnoticed through the building, only stopping when he sees two men walking down the hallway.

One is almost as tall as himself, wearing an outfit made almost entirely of dark green leather topped with a hood that hid his face. A quiver half-full of arrows and a bow are visible over his shoulder.

The other man is slightly taller than them both and dressed in tatters. It is obvious from his scruffy beard and bald head that he has not had the opportunity to shave for some time. The older black man is leaning on the green person for support, making the other almost drag him down the hall.

The hidden male's eyes narrow in suspicion. What was the Hood, latest vigilante of Starling City and (secretly, but not to him or his mentor) Oliver Queen doing here?

_Well, _the spy thinks as a sly grin grows on his face. _It can't hurt to ask. _

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Oliver's adrenaline rush is fading as he half-drags Walter through the building, carefully avoiding stepping over the bodies he has left in his wake. Suddenly one of the bodies down the hall lurches up into a sitting position, gun cradled in its left hand. The thug blinks blearily before letting out a shout and aiming the weapon at the strange pair.

Before Oliver can drop Walter and grab his bow something dark flashes from the shadows and knocks the gun out of the thug's hand. Terror floods the gunman's face as a dark chuckle emanates from the very walls. He jumps to his feet and starts to run. Oliver leans Walter against the wall of the hall and is reaching for his bow when another dark thing flashes at the running man's neck. He drops like a bag of wet cement.

Bow in hand and an arrow drawn tight on the string, Oliver's eyes dart around the dim hall, trying to locate the source of the laughter. Movement flickers in his vision, and he glances down to see a small black ball, about the size of a marble, roll gently forward and tap his boot. Gas immediately pours from the sphere, and the Hood barely has a chance to cough before darkness floods his vision and he passes out, Walter folding to the ground right behind him.

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Oliver wakes quickly, coughing, as a small cloud of gas dissipates from in front of his face. Someone had woken him up. The blonde man sits up, looking around. He is lying on a rooftop, Walter still sleeping next to him, and his quiver conspicuously absent.

"Looking for this?" He leaps into a fighting position, trying to find the source of the voice. A dark form draws his attention to the edge of the roof as white teeth, bared in a smirk, and a dot of bright blue emerges from the gloom.

It is a man, perhaps a little younger than himself, with long black hair held back in a low ponytail. His eyes are hidden by a black domino mask, though his lips are quirked up in a smug smile, and he has handsome features. A black body suit covers his body, the dark coloring broken only by a cleverly concealed utility belt around the man's waist and a bright blue pattern, like a bird with outstretched wings, on his chest. Oliver's quiver is dangling from his right hand.

The stranger wastes no time in tossing the quiver across the roof and into the Hood's arms, where he inspects it for damage before kneeling next to Walter and checking his pulse, never taking his eyes off of the man.

"Sorry for the whole knockout gas thing," the new man says suddenly, not sounding sorry at all. "I wanted to talk, figured you wouldn't, especially not with the civilian around, so I brought you here."

Hood watches him carefully as he paces around the roof, gesturing with black-gloved hands as he talks, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickles with apprehension. This man moves with the grace of a trained fighter, each step fluid and silent with seemingly no effort. If he stood still, without that bird on his chest, he would be invisible in the shadows.

"Who are you," Oliver growls, glad to discover that his voice modulator is still active. The man merely grins.

"The name's Nightwing," he introduces himself, giving an exaggerated bow to the archer before straightening, face deadly serious. "And this is my city. Tell me, archer, what is your business in Bludhaven?"

Oliver bristles, but logic forces him to take a deep breath and reply calmly. "This man was kidnapped from Starling City nearly six months ago. I only recently tracked him to a location in Bludhaven and came to retrieve him," he answers. Nightwing stares hard at him for a minute, testing the truth in his words. Finding them satisfactory, the tension drains from his shoulders and his grins returns.

"Good," he says cheerfully. "Glad you aren't planning on staying, I hate competition."

Oliver tenses as Nightwing walks towards him, only for the man to walk right past and to the edge of the roof, removing something from his belt as he does. He turns and gives the Hood one last grin over his shoulder before shooting a grappling line from the device in his hand to the corner of the building across the street.

"It was nice to see you, Queen. Maybe we'll have some fun next time," he remarks, and swings off before Oliver can pick his jaw up off the roof. So, someone else, a man who may or may not be crazy calling himself Nightwing, knows his identity and is swinging around Bludhaven like an acrobat. Oliver sighs and runs a hand through his hair tiredly before grabbing his spare earpiece from the bottom of his quiver. Dig was going to be thrilled about this.

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End file.
